


yes

by katrinawritesthings



Category: SHINee
Genre: Brotp, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:39:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katrinawritesthings/pseuds/katrinawritesthings
Summary: the one where taem nails that ‘’’’’get completely wasted at a party but act sober around ur parents’’’’ aesthetic





	yes

Jonghyun sees Taemin four times today.

The first time is at school, during third period history, when Taemin slouches back in his chair and doodles next to his notes about the forced colonization of the west coast. The second time is at Amber’s party, where he’s somehow managed to get a hold of a sizeable crowd to watch him chug the fancy strawberry beers that Luna brought.

The third time is around an hour or two after he left that party, when he’s standing over the stove in front of his kitchen window and poking at a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner. He sees Taemin getting out of a car next door, pushing his red hair out of his face and fixing his shirt. Oh, he thinks, cool, because Taemin got someone to drive him home. That’s good.

What shocks him is when the driver also gets out of the car; it’s Taemin’s mom. What the fuck? Jonghyun frowns over his grilled cheese, confused. Did he get his mom to pick him up from that party? There is no way that his mother is that chill. Taemin was drunk off of his fucking ass. As he squints out of the window, though, he notices that Taemin is managing to walk straight as an arrow up his front walk.

“When do you have to meet up with your Literature group again?” His mom asks as she passes him and fishes her key from her bag.

“Uh, Thursday,” Taemin says. “We’re all meeting at Kibummie’s place.” His voice is smooth and steady, clear and focused, but not too excessively so so that it’s obvious that he’s trying. Jonghyun’s eyebrows raise into his hair. He flips his sandwich in the pan when he realizes that the edges are getting a little too dark and leans more to the side to watch Taemin follow his mom inside, cool as a cucumber. Thursday, at Kibum’s. Hmm. Thursday is Woohyun’s party. There is literally no way that Kibum is going to not be there. Taemin is probably still getting even drunker from the the alcohol left in his system but he’s ace in the way he just straight up lies to his mother, no tells, no giveaways, no hesitation. Jonghyun can’t even lie like that regularly. He can’t imagine being that smooth while high.

The fourth time Jonghyun sees Taemin today is after he’s finished his dinner and gone up to his room to do his homework in a late night panic. He dives onto his bed and up to the window where he’s set up his little workplace, tugging his bag close to pull out his shit. He glances up as he flips absentmindedly to page whatever of his economy textbook and finds Taemin sitting at his own window, elbows resting on the sill and head in his hands, a plastic bag swaying off of his pinky. Jonghyun cocks a brow. Looks like his stomach isn’t doing too well with the combination of beer and jello shots and McDonald’s fries that someone brought over while Jonghyun was just leaving. Still, the way he breezed passed his parents was fucking stellar.

“You’re inspirational, you know that?” he calls across the short gap between their houses. Taemin doesn’t flinch or jump, but he does seem to cringe in on himself a little bit.

“Mmgh. What? Me?” he asks, looking up and squinting at Jonghyun with unfocused eyes. Yikes. One chug too many, Jonghyun thinks. Poor kid. He grins and gestures at Taemin, taking care of himself without arousing suspicion and shit.

“I don’t know anyone else that could act that well feeling the way that you do,” he says earnestly. Taemin just squints at him harder. Then he grimaces and holds up one finger. He leans slowly to the side of his window, then comes back with something in his hand. A few moments later, Jonghyun’s phone rings on his pillow. When he grabs it, he sees that it’s Taemin. He snorts and hits answer.

“Sorry,” Taemin mumbles. Jonghyun watches him put the phone on the windowsill and then lay his head down on top of it. “My head is killing me.”

“Oh.” Jonghyun laughs softly. “I thought that was a hangover thing?” he asks gently, in as soothing a voice as possible. Taemin grunts from his window.

“It’s different for everyone,” he grumbles. “I should’ve eaten more before I started drinking. And between beers. Bluh.”

“Does… that help?” Jonghyun asks. He admittedly doesn’t know jack shit about drinking stuff. Taemin picks his head up to frown incredulously at him for a moment, then grimaces and puts it back down.

“Yeah,” he says, like it should be obvious. “That’s like, basic shit. How do you not know?”

“I don’t drink,” Jonghyun pouts. He doesn’t appreciate being talked to like a kid. “I get high.”

“Oh,” Taemin says. “I got high once. I didn’t like it. And the smoke really fucks up your lungs.” His voice is muffled, which is kind of endearing, to be honest. Jonghyun props his chin up on his hand.

“What about your liver?” he asks. Last time Jonghyun checked, a full six-pack of beer in one night isn’t exactly ideal for proper liver function. Over the gap between their houses, Taemin shrugs his shoulders once.

“Drinking will stop being cool in college,” he says. “Right now, I’m happy and proud of being the flip cup champion.”

“Sure,” Jonghyun snorts, shaking his head fondly. That’s one way of thinking. Taemin doesn’t answer to his reply with anything other than a rough sounding groan, one hand pushing his hair out of his face. Jonghyun watches, unsettled, as he fumbles weakly with his plastic bag to open it up a little more. “Hey,” he says, “If you’re gonna throw up, I’m gonna hang up on you.”  And close the window and play some music and do literally everything possible to keep his own dinner inside of his stomach.

“I’m not going to,” Taemin mumbles back. “I’m just… being careful.” He wiggles his bag lazily; Jonghyun isn’t entirely convinced. “I’m gonna hang up on you anyway,” Taemin says next. “I wanna wallow in my mistakes by myself for a little bit and then sleep. I have a math test tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jonghyun shrugs. A math test with a hangover. “Good luck,” he says cheerily. Taemin answers with another grumble and a mumble and then hangs up, pulling his phone back inside and lifting his arms up to pillow his head on the windowsill with a deep, steady breath. Jonghyun watches him for another few moments before he turns back to his own homework.

When Jonghyun sees Taemin in history the next day, he’s doodling in his notes again with no sign of how fucked up he was last night except for how when Jonghyun catches his eye, he gives him a tiny little shrug of a smile.

“Ran out of my hangover pills,” he mumbles as they’re walking out of class. “I feel like death.” He leaves Jonghyun to go down the stairs with a wave and Jonghyun stares incredulously after him. That kid should go into acting.


End file.
